The Working Out Job
by vampirealchemist13
Summary: Parker figures out Nate's gay and asks if he's going to be "working out" with Eliot. Nate definitely isn't averse to the idea. PWP M/M
1. Let's Get Coffee

**a/n:** This is complete and total lemon. It's two chapters and however-many-words of absolute lemony PWP. It's also malexmale. If that bothers you, you should probably navigate away.

It's slightly AU in that I ignore just about every romantic interaction between Nate and Sophie that didn't happen on a con or went beyond light, casual flirting. This happens sometime in the midst of Season 5, but I don't think there's any _real_ spoilers - just an occasional reference to another episode.

Enjoy!

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"Nate, does Sophie know you're gay?" The large gulp of whiskey he'd just taken found it's way back up, burning his throat as he tried to keep from choking on it. "I mean, it seems kind of unfortunate for her to be hitting on you and you're kind of leading her on. Unless she knows and it's just some weird acting activity she's doing and you're helping her with, because…"

"Parker!" He finally got his breathing under control and did a quick check to make sure all the doors were closed and he and Parker really were alone. "What makes you think I'm gay?"

She shrugged, but didn't break eye contact—like she thought it was obvious or something.

"A bunch of little things I suppose. Why? Is it supposed to stay a secret?" He fidgeted uncomfortably.

He'd spent a good amount of time not trying to be obvious about it. It wasn't that he was embarrassed about it per se, but it was much easier to cultivate and maintain respect when he wasn't also trying to maintain his image of masculinity around a bunch of people he needed to work with on a daily basis.

Only two people in his life before Leverage knew about him—Maggie and James.

Maggie had desperately wanted a child and so had he. Knowing how difficult it was for gay people to adopt—especially _single_ gay people—and knowing Maggie wanted a child more than she wanted to be married, they had agreed to marry for appearances and they'd had Sam. Luckily it hadn't taken more than three attempts for Maggie to get pregnant with Sam.

And James…well, Maggie had said she didn't much care if he and James were sleeping together. It wasn't like either of the men wanted to get married, or be in an open relationship, so no one saw a reason to split the married couple up until such time arose.

That had stopped shortly before Sam had gotten sick and never started again. And without Sam, he and Maggie hadn't seen much reason to stay married.

So that was that. Only a few people knew—or had known—and both had promised, no matter what else might happen between them, Nate's secret would stay as such.

And now Parker—emotionally oblivious (but getting better) Parker—had just…figured it out? Exactly how obvious _was_ he?

"I don't think anyone else knows, if that's what you're worried about. Although I don't see why you're worried—it's not like anyone would care. Except Sophie, if she doesn't know, which is why I was curious."

"She knows enough," he said, very uncomfortable, but taking a large swig of whiskey and a deep breath to give the illusion that this wasn't as awkward as he actually thought it was. "She knows the flirting we do doesn't mean anything. Eliot and Hardison don't know anything." _And let's keep it that way_ , he hoped she understood without saying anything.

"Good—because it would be super bad if, you know, she got mad because she caught you and Eliot working out." It was the completely nonchalant way she said it that made him start choking on his drink again. Working out? Is that really what she called it? And…

"Eliot?" She nodded, still working on adjusting her rig, not looking up. "Parker, why would Eliot and I be…working out?" She just lifted her head and gave him a look.

"Well, who else would it be? You don't trust anyone outside this team, and you don't trust anyone more than him."

"Which leads to us working out how?" He tried not to think about the fact that he hadn't denied to her that he'd very much be ok with the scenario she was painting.

"Wait, do you really not know?" She finally put down the screwdriver and took a careful look at him. He was uncomfortable being under such careful _Parker_ scrutiny, but she seemed to realize something and her eyes widened comically before dropping back to the rig. "Whoops."

"Parker, what's whoops?" And why didn't that whoops sound overly convincing? Almost like she was…pleased about the 'whoops'…

"I said something I shouldn't have. I made a mistake—my bad, Nate."

"Parker…"

"Nope. You want me to keep your secrets, fine, but that means you need to let me keep everyone else's, too." She said it with such finality that it didn't even occur to him to argue with her. When Parker didn't want to give something up, she didn't.

"But," he turned around at the sound of her voice, "working out aside, I don't think you need to be worried about what Eliot and Hardison will think about you. They both care about you and this family, and neither of them strike me as people who care about something as normal as who you love unless it actually affects one of them."

He stared at her for a few more second, but she didn't seem like she was interested in saying anything else, so he walked out of the office and into the restaurant.

Where there were only a few people scattered around and one particular retrieval specialist in the kitchen-slash-bar area preparing some of his famous chili.

He only got a few seconds of admiring the way the man focused on six different things, moving fluidly around his space in a completely confident manner, before he saw the stiffening spine and brief twitch of the right hand in the direction of a kitchen knife before the man completely relaxed again.

Like he knew he was being scrutinized, but he also knew he was safe.

 _Safer than he'll ever be anywhere else as long as I'm watching his back_ , he promised himself.

"You gonna stand there, or you gonna help?" The rough voice made him smile and he parked himself on a stool at the bar.

"I think we both know how much you'd rather I don't step into the kitchen," he quipped, reaching over to grab the bottle of scotch kept just under the bar top.

"That depends—you actually gonna help or just stare helplessly at whatever I put in front of you?" He shrugged and poured a glass, keeping an eye on Eliot. "And I sure ain't lettin' you back here if you're drinkin'. Rule number one - don't let drunk people handle pointy objects or hot stoves."

"Thought rule number one was don't get in Eliot's way in the kitchen?"

"Rule number one is the rules are whatever I say they are since I'm the one that keeps the restaurant part of this bar slash restaurant runnin'." He raised his glass in concession and took a sip, hating how Eliot glared at the glass before turning back to his work. But not before his eyes had turned back to Nate's and softened just the slightest bit.

He'd seen it before—Eliot's clear disdain for the drinking—but it always seemed like the man was more irritated by the alcohol itself rather than Nate. Nate he always just seemed concerned for.

He hated the look of pity Eliot sometimes let slip—like he thought Nate was powerless, being controlled by the 'devil juice'. But really, what reason didn't he have to drink? He'd hurt Maggie by not being there for her after Sam, he'd lost Sam, pushed James away when he had been more than willing to be there while they went through losing Sam. And he'd let more people close to his heart, people he knew he was going to have to leave one day.

It was what he was good at, destroying the things around him. Sometimes he did it on purpose—like doing it on purpose instead of by accident made it easier for him to swallow the fact that it would have happened anyways.

At least Sophie knew about him—Parker was right; finding out in a more unfortunate manner would result in the team fragmenting worse than when she'd left the first time.

She was also right that Eliot and Hardison didn't seem like they would place the fact that he was gay over the fact that they were a family. But that was hardly the only reason he hadn't said anything about it.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He looked up to see Eliot wiping his hand on a bar towel, the food behind him gone. Amy had obviously come and grab the food for delivery while he'd been lost in thought.

"Not sure they're worth that much," he admitted, swirling the whiskey in his glass, but not taking a drink.

"If they're bothering you, they're worth whatever it takes to get rid of 'em. Come on—what's got the great Nate Ford looking like he might throw up in his glass?" He scrunched his nose and gave a thick chuckle.

"Thanks for that visual, Eliot." The man shrugged, but didn't look away. "It's really nothing. Just the usual."

"Yeah, 'cause the usual's nothing, Nate. Come on; we're going to get coffee."

"At ten at night?"

"What, because you sleep?" Nate shrugged in concession and pushed his glass away. "Kitchen's closed, folks, unless it's chili, which we got plenty of." He pulled off his apron, slipped his leather jacket over the plain white tee shirt he was wearing and tipped his head towards the door, waiting for Nate to follow him out the door.

"So what's eatin' you?" The nearest coffee place was five blocks away, and they were walking pretty slow, so Nate knew he wasn't going to get away with diverting the conversation. "And don't gimme that bullshit 'nothing' excuse again. I'd like to think we're past unconvincing lyin' like that, Ford." He chanced a glance at the hitter and saw the familiar 'good luck getting out of this one' smirk. Why had he left the comfort of the bar and the whiskey for this again?

"We've all got secrets from our life before the team, right? Things we've tried not to let come to light until necessary. Like Archie or Moreau or whatever Sophie and Hardison still have from before Leverage that we just haven't found out about yet. Either because it wasn't relevant or there's just…parts of us we don't want each other to know."

"Because we don't want to see how it would change how we look at each other," Eliot finished quietly. Nate nodded; if anyone on the team would know how he felt, it was Eliot. After all, Nate knew the most about Eliot's past and even he didn't know everything…just bits and pieces Eliot hadn't had a choice but to give up in the course of various jobs.

"Parker found out one of mine. Not," he said quickly, seeing the rising irritation on Eliot's face—the man valued trust with the team; they didn't snoop on each other—and trying to assuage it, "because she was trying to snoop or pry. She just noticed a few things, put together a theory and asked me about it. Actually, she didn't even ask…just kind of stated it. Like there was no way it could be false…not that she was wrong. But I didn't want to lie to her. So I was honest with her, and she just couldn't figure out why I'd keep it a secret."

"And she was so convincing about the fact that we wouldn't care that you're questioning why on Earth you kept it a secret the entire time," Eliot picked up. "Like the fact that maybe she's wrong never even crosses your mind." Nate whipped his head to the side to stare at Eliot, who was resolutely staring straight ahead. So he wasn't the only one Parker had done this to.

"Parker's way more observant than we gave her credit for in the beginning," Eliot muttered, reaching forward to open the door for him. "Although it helps that she spends all of her time around us, so she's got plenty of time for analyzin'." Nate let out a laugh as he stepped into the coffee shop.

"We've created a monster," he said. "She'll be a master grifter in no time at all. If she can pick up all this stuff about us, and we're pretty good at keeping our secrets, imagine what she'll do with a mark. Large, black please," he said, turning to the barista. The shop was pretty empty; normal considering they closed in ten minutes and it was a weeknight.

"Make that two," Eliot said from behind him, handing the woman a ten and dropping another five in the tip jar.

"You know, I can afford my own coffee," he said with a raised eyebrow. Eliot simply shrugged. "Thanks." The corner of the hitter's mouth quirked in the beginning of a smile and Nate had to turn away to keep himself from staring too long.

So Parker hadn't been wrong. About any of it. He was gay, Sophie knew, and he very much wouldn't mind…working out…with Eliot. But he'd already known all that. The trick was not letting the team find out…mostly the last part. Considering most of them knew the first part already.

"Two large blacks," the barista called about fifteen seconds later, giving them both a raised eyebrow. He understood; why were two men who probably had perfectly good coffee machines at home coming to a second rate coffee shop at nearly ten thirty for something as simple as two black coffees? And tipping five bucks on top of it…she probably thought she was getting robbed soon.

"Thanks, darlin'," Eliot said with a wink, grabbing both cups and handing him one. He watched with an air of humor as the woman's cheeks colored and she looked away with a mumbled 'you're welcome'. The man's southern charm was unbelievably effective.

Especially on Nate.

They were passing the park that was halfway back to the restaurant when Eliot spoke up again.

"So Parker told you she figured out you were gay, huh?" It was a testament to how well Eliot knew him and had anticipated the reaction his words would have that the cup Nate had just dropped fell neatly into Eliot's open hand. "If I'd know you were just going to drop it, I wouldn't have paid for your coffee." Of course, he said it was a grin…smug bastard.

"H..ho…"

"How? Well, see the thing about being extremely confident in being bisexual is that I rarely get flustered when the guy I'm staring at in obvious interest notices I'm staring. Which means my head is clear enough to realize he was staring back just as interested," Eliot grumbled, placing both of their cups on the wood fence beside them. He moved slowly, deliberately…he was giving Nate time to escape if he wanted to.

His heart pounded in his chest, and his brain was firing thoughts faster than it did in the middle of a con. Parker had…Eliot knew…had they…

"Did…did Parker con me?" Eliot laughed, probably at the dumbstruck look on his face, and didn't make a move to get closer.

"She conned both of us, actually, Took her 'bout five minutes to get it out of me; hope you held out longer." He shook his head. "Guess we found something more effective than torture," Eliot said, referring to the CIA idiot's theory that torture didn't work. A theory Eliot had quickly and effectively proven wrong, of course.

And then, like a flipped switch, Nate was back to being Nate. Confident, calm, collected, thinking six steps ahead in twelve different directions. Like the confirmation that the team—Eliot in particular—wasn't going to hate him or leave him just because he'd fallen in love with one of them made everything weighing on him disappear.

"So…interested?" He asked, using Eliot's own words to test the waters. "How interested?"

Nate's hands, which had been in his pockets since Eliot had kept his coffee from spilling out on the pavement, were shaking horribly, but he tried not to let it show on his face. Instead, he kept eye contact with Eliot as the man took two slow steps to close the short distance between them.

"Nate." He'd heard the hitter talk to many a mark, heard him flirt with many of them. Sometimes it was the shy country boy, sometimes the confident but kind gentleman. Never had he heard the dangerous, dark voice that was slipping from the man's lips to Nate's ears, making his fingers clench in his pockets and his breath escape in ragged gasps. And all he'd said was Nate's _name_ , but that name had been said with such a _promise_ , a promise of that name and more being whispered—rasped, _screamed_ —while tangled in the sheets of one of their beds.

Oh god, he was gone.

"Elio—" He hadn't gotten the man's entire name out before his lower body was being pinned to the fence behind him by another, his hands flying from his pockets to press against the solid chest that was very nearly up against his own. "Eliot," the name escaped in a whisper…a ragged, aroused whisper.

Eliot's hands were curled around his upper arms, locking them together so tightly they were breathing each other's exhales, which was making him dizzy. Or maybe that was just being this close to Eliot. He was fairly certain he'd have collapsed by now if he wasn't being pinned to the fence.

The anticipation before the kiss was nearly unbearable, but neither man seemed willing to break it. Then Nate's fingers clenched almost imperceptibly in Eliot's white shirt and the anticipation broke and so did Nate. Eliot kissed like he fought—precise, aware of absolutely everything, using every tool at his disposal to put the other person completely at his mercy. And Nate was completely at his mercy.

The taste of coffee still lingered in both of their mouths, although he thought it tasted much better on Eliot's tongue than it had from the cup. In fact, this was the only way he ever wanted to taste coffee again. His fingers had moved from Eliot's shirt to gripping the leather jacket, pulling him in impossibly closer as Eliot's own arms wound around his back, crushing them together.

Not an inch of space remained between them at any point. Instead of pinning him to the fence, the hitter was now keeping him from sliding to the ground with his left leg firmly wedged between both of Nate's, allowing him to feel the solid length pressed against his left thigh all the better.

Eliot pushed his left leg more firmly between his own and he felt the other man swallow his moan as the friction left him trembling and hungry for more. He dropped one of his hands from gripping the jacket to gripping something a little firmer. Despite the overwhelming desire to let out another moan at the movements Eliot kept repeating, he felt a stab of pride when the other man's movements stuttered just a bit as he wrapped his hand tighter around the bulge in Eliot's jeans.

When he gave the slightest twist, Eliot let out a choked moan, ripping their lips apart and leaning his forehead heavily against Nate's. He waited about two seconds, catching his own breath for a moment, before repeating the movement. He felt the arms around him tighten and Eliot moved until lips pressed against his ear, the warm breath and ragged breathing causing his own breathing to stutter.

"Nathan." Oh god, there it was again, that dark voice that made him think the _dirtiest_ things. He shivered for a brief moment, then again as Eliot gave a low chuckle at the first shiver. "This turns you on, doesn't it? Do you think I could get you off just like this? Just by saying all the things I've wanted to do to you, the things I'm going to do to you? Or maybe just by saying your name?"

"El…iot…" He released the man's name in a broken, choked sob. He'd never had this before, this feeling of being attracted to more than just how his partner looked. It had never been more than friends with benefits or one night stands; he'd never _loved_ any of his partners like this before. Never felt this safe with them, which meant he'd never let his guard down enough to be this _broken_.

But he trusted Eliot. Trusted Eliot to keep him safe and put him back together.

"God, Nathan, the way you sound." Like Eliot didn't know exactly how _he_ sounded, whispering every dirty thing he could think into Nate's ear. He wasn't ashamed to admit that Eliot wasn't wrong; he had a feeling he could very easily get off just by Eliot saying his name like that a few more times. "Come on, Nathan. I've got you; let go for me. I want to see you let go for me. I want you to lose control the way you only will for me." He tried to say something, anything, but he could only get out a few choked moans, Eliot's voice drowning out everything else.

Who he was, where they were…it all faded away to leave just one thing.

"El…Eliot…please…"

"Oh, god, say it, Nathan. Say you're mine. That I'm the only one who'll ever get to see you like this. That only I can make you let go of that control. Please, Nathan. Tell me."

"Y…yo…yours. _God_ Eliot…only yours…al…always yours." Eliot's breathing was matching his own—ragged, uncontrolled, barely enough, never enough…

"That's it, Nathan. Always mine…and I'm always yours. Now come for me. Just let go."

"Eliot…I…I can't…I'm…"

"Look at me, Nathan. I want to see you; I want to see what I do to you. I want to see my voice make you come apart at the seams." And when he turned to look at Eliot's eyes, pupils blown so wide in the dark and the arousal that they were pitch black, that was the end of the thin thread of control he's been futilely holding onto. "Come for me, Nathan."

"Oh, GOD…ELIOT!" And the knuckles on his right hand turned white from gripping Eliot's jacket and he collapsed forward, landing heavily on Eliot's shoulder, shuddering through the most intense orgasm he could ever remember. And Eliot had barely _touched_ him.

"God, you're beautiful like this," Eliot whispered in his ear. The dark voice full of filthy promises had faded to leave the soft, southern twang that wrapped Nate in warmth and…something else. "I could stay here forever if it meant seeing you like this." One hand had come up to cup Nate's head, thumb rubbing soothingly into his neck while his other hand fluttered up and down his back.

And yet, completely boneless, brainless, and floating down from his high, Nate didn't feel weak or defenseless. He felt stronger than ever…because Eliot was standing next to him.

"You better refrain from using that voice on any jobs," Nate choked, taking in a deep breath and finally lifting his head to look Eliot in the eyes. The eyes that still spoke of heavy arousal, though a bit more contained now. A bit.

"Why? Would you be jealous?" Eliot leaned in to barely touch his lips, a whisper of a breath between them.

"That aside, I don't think I'd be able to face the rest of the team, much less a mark, in the condition you'd leave me in," he muttered, some of the words bringing his lips forward just enough to brush Eliot's. The hitter gave him a soft smile, closing the gap between their lips in a much sweeter imitation of their first kiss.

"As much as I'd love to take advantage of you in that condition," Eliot murmured after they'd separated, "I thought we'd just established that no one else gets to see you like that." Nate smiled and slipped his hand back between them to grasp Eliot again.

"Pretty interesting choice of words for someone who literally just talked me into an orgasm in a park." Eliot groaned, the hand that had been skimming up and down his back now clutching desperately at his hip.

"Which I wouldn't have done if I knew someone else was remotely close enough to…ungh…hear you." His breath hitched as Nate began softly scraping his nails across the denim-clad length. "T…tease."

"It's not teasing if I follow through," Nate murmured, delivering a soft bite to Eliot's neck at the same moment his hand gave the same twist it had earlier. "After all, you made me come with your mouth. Isn't it only fair I return the favor?" But as he made a move to drop to his knees to do just that, Eliot pushed him back against the fence again. His eyebrows drew together in confusion and just a bit of hurt. Did Eliot not want…

"Of course I want you to use that beautiful mouth, Nathan. I want to discover every single one of your talents—and I've no doubt your mouth is _very_ talented. But we're not alone anymore, darlin'," he said, nuzzling into Nate's neck and tightening his arms one more time before stepping away and grabbing their now-cold coffee and tossing it into the nearby recycling container before turning back to Nate and extending one of his hands. "So. How about we go home and find a more private place to explore each others talents?"

He smiled and reached out to clasp Eliot's hand, threading their fingers together. Then the group of men Eliot had sensed were about to come around the corner were ten yards away and grinning in that way Nate knew meant someone was going to wake up with a killer headache tomorrow. Possibly some broken fingers. Nate tightened his grip on Eliot's hand just enough for the other man to get the message; no permanent damage.

"Hey queers, where you think you're going?" So this was their leader, given the other four men were laughing at something that wasn't even remotely clever. "Great night to make new friends, ain't it?" Nate rolled his eyes, which one of the 'goons' caught. He hadn't particularly been trying to hide it.

"Oh, Rhett, that one thinks he's too good for us."

"Too good to talk to us, queer?" Nate shrugged, very disinterested in all of this. He had a blowjob he'd very much like to deliver and these men were being quite the cock blocks.

"Lemme guess, you polite, upstanding guys just wanna teach us some manners. That 'bout right?" Eliot sounded just as bored as he was.

"You must be the girl of this little pairing, eh? Got the hair and everything. Guessin' Mr. Too-Good-For-Us makes you his little bitch?" Nate fought a blush; given what had transpired about ten minutes earlier, he'd say Eliot had held most of the control in their…relationship…thus far. A quick glance at Eliot's smug face told him the hitter had the same thought. He squeezed Eliot's hand in warning, but the smirk just got bigger.

"Ah, look. You're kind of standing in the way of a really good evening, so how about we just keep walking and you don't have to take Vicodin for a broken leg tomorrow?" The men just started laughing; well, he'd tried.

"Come on boys, let's give these queers a lesson on what…" The leader—Rhett—didn't even finish what he was saying before Eliot had three of the goons on the ground. As he was dropping Rhett and the last goon, one of the other three had gotten up and was about to attack Nate but dropped to the ground with a shriek and a lot of twitching.

He held up the taser at Eliot's curious look. "Not that a punch isn't effective, but Parker's right—it is kind of fun."

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 **a/n:** Please Review! The next chapter is literally pure PWP lemony goodness. Like, moreso than this chapter. It's also probably the final chapter. Pretty much just a two-parter.


	2. Talent Show

**a/n:** This is complete and total lemon. It's two chapters and however-many-words of absolute lemony PWP. It's also malexmale. If that bothers you, you should probably navigate away.

It's slightly AU in that I ignore just about every romantic interaction between Nate and Sophie that didn't happen on a con or went beyond light, casual flirting. This happens sometime in the midst of Season 5, but I don't think there's any _real_ spoilers - just an occasional reference to another episode.

Enjoy Part II!

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"Don't take this to mean I want you to go beating people up for no reason, but it is _very_ attractive to watch you drop five men who are slightly bigger than you like it's no harder than doing laundry."

The moment they'd gotten inside Nate's room—thank GOD, Hardison had soundproofed all the rooms before they started using these offices. Granted, he'd probably done it to save the rest of them from hearing him and Parker, but it was still dead useful—Nate had shoved Eliot back against the door, fingers sliding across the man's scalp and gripping his hair as he pressed himself as tightly to the hitter as he could.

"Laundry's harder," Eliot rasped when Nate moved his mouth to bite Eliot's ear, then further down until he was sucking at what would surely be an impressive mark in a few hours. Nate gave a light chuckle and Eliot took the opportunity to cup his ass, lift him, and turn them around, slamming his back into the door. He dragged his hands up and down Eliot's arms, staring in wonder.

"All that power, all that strength…" He tipped his head back against the door as Eliot started on returning the favor of marking him. "But you're so gentle, so controlled. It's amazing…you're amazing…ah!" As he'd been talking, Eliot had unbuttoned his black shirt, hands traveling over his exposed torso. When the other man had pinched a nipple between a finger and thumb and rolled, Nate let out a gasp. He choked on his words a few times as he tried to continue.

"I always…unh…always know I'm…oh, _god,_ Eliot, don't stop!…I'm safe with you. Not…ah, fuck…not because you're strong, but…o-o-ohhh…because you're in control." And right now, as his mouth delivered firmer bites to his collarbone and one hand held and teased his nipple while the other cupped him through his jeans, Eliot had never held more control over Nate. No one had.

"Oh, Nathan," oh, god, the voice… "You're always safe with me. And I'm always safe with you. It's what you and I do—keep each other safe." Nate let out a cry, but he wasn't sure if it was from the intense amount of stimulation he was receiving, or (again) from Eliot's voice.

"Am I going to make you come again, Nathan? Are you going to surrender yourself to me again, let me watch you fall apart? Or are you going to hold it together this time? Try desperately to hold it together as I tell you how I want to lay you on your bed and spread you open, fill you with my fingers and then my cock. How I want to be so far in you that you feel me in your throat, burning you from inside, and fill you until you can't feel anything but me for _days_. Are you going to hold it together while I tell you I'm going to tie you to the bed and touch you absolutely everywhere until you can't remember anything except my fingers, my hands, my mouth on your skin? On your cock? Come on, Nathan. Can you hold it together?"

Nate's arms were wrapped around Eliot's neck, and he was sobbing from the effort of trying to stave off an orgasm long enough to hear every dirty thing Eliot whispered into his ear.

"You're so responsive, Nathan," Eliot whispered, his hands had long ago left their place on his body and were now against the door on either side of Nate's head. "You come apart so prettily at the sound of my voice. I can't even imagine how it'll look when you fall apart from me touching you, sucking you, making love to you."

That was it. Just like he had in the park, Nate was struggling to maintain control, unable to believe he was flying apart like this without being touched. But Eliot had said 'making love'…with every other dirty, crude, beautifully _filthy_ word falling from his lips, he'd chosen to say 'making love' instead of 'fucking' and Nate's control slipped long enough for him to succumb.

"Eliot, oh my GOD, Eliot please…please…please…I can't…I need…please, Eliot. Fuck…Eliot." As he hit the end of his orgasm, Eliot shifted just enough for his length to rub against Nate's overly sensitive one and he gave another cry of "Eliot!", feeling a twitch that told him his cock was trying to harden again already. He knew it would be several minutes at least before it managed to, but that it was already trying…

"Nathan." He tried to lift his head, he really did, but it was so heavy… He felt Eliot's hand cup his cheek and help him lift it to meet Eliot's eyes and Nate stopped breathing. The warmth and something else that wrapped around him when Eliot spoke earlier…he knew what the something else was.

"Nathan, I love you. I love you, and I need you and I need you to know—I need you to understand—that I will always _always_ keep you safe." Nate forced himself to focus, to look Eliot in the eyes and read the sincerity there.

"Eliot," he whispered, leaning in to press his lips to Eliot's, trying to convey his response before he vocalized it. "I love you, too, Eliot. I need you so much it scares the absolute shit out of me, and I…" Eliot leaned back in, capturing his lips in a searing kiss that made him feel like the man was making good on his promise to burn him from the inside out.

As he predicted, he felt his cock pressing into his slacks a few minutes later. Putting pressure on his arms, still wrapped around Eliot's neck, he unlocked his legs from behind Eliot's back and slid them back down to the floor.

"I believe there was talk earlier of a talent show," he rasped, turning them so Eliot's back was to the door again. Not that the man would have moved if he hadn't wanted to, but it gave the appearance of Nate having the power at least.

"As long as it's a private show," Eliot replied, eyes never leaving his as Nate slowly sank to his knees and allowed his hands to skip Eliot's waistband, finally landing on the button. It was intoxicating, hearing the skips in Eliot's breathing as he replaced his fingers with his mouth, releasing the button and zipper with only his tongue and teeth.

"Only for you, Eliot. Only ever for you," he said, leaning in to place a kiss on Eliot's cock through the slit in his boxers. He gently pulled at the elastic to guide the fabric down to join Eliot's jeans, peering up at the other man one more time. "Put your hands on me, Eliot. It's your turn to show me how you come apart." And at the same moment Eliot's hands gently came up to his head, he opened his throat and took the man in until his head hit the back of Nate's throat.

"Jesus _fucking_ Christ, Nathan!" He smirked, but didn't stop. He started slow, building a slow bob before allowing his tongue to trace the large vein on the underside of Eliot's cock as his teeth gently scraped over the top. Eliot let out a string of words that didn't stop. "Fuck, Nathan…Nate…Nate, you're so…oh, shit, Nate…fuck…ah!" Nate didn't know which was hotter: the voice Eliot used to make Nate come apart or him coming apart himself. He pushed as far down as he could and swallowed, his muscles contracting around Eliot's pulsing cock and forcing a strangled cry from the man above him. The fingers were tightening in his hair and he closed his eyes in bliss, focusing on doing just enough to keep Eliot teetering on the edge. He wanted this to last.

Pulling off slowly, tracing with his tongue as he went, he delivered a soft kiss to the head, dipping his tongue in the slit before swirling and dipping once more. He waited until Eliot's babbling had slowed and his breathing started getting just slightly less ragged before sinking back onto him with a hum and a swallow.

"SHIT, Nathan…oh, god, you're so beautiful with your mouth full of my cock. You suck it so well, baby, please…ah! Fuck, Nathan, you're so good, such a good boy, such a…ah…ah…N…Nate…ugh, Nathan, I'm…I'm…FUCK!" With a final swallow, Nate felt Eliot's fingers tighten in his hair and kept his cock in place swallowing through his orgasm, pulling him through it.

He let Eliot slip from his slips with a purposeful and obscenely wet 'pop', making sure Eliot was looking right at him as he licked his lips and delivered a final kiss to the softening head.

"Bed," Eliot rasped, looking like he was actually struggling to remain upright. "Right fucking now." Feeling a bit cheeky at finally being the one who wasn't trying to pull his mind together, Nate remained kneeling for a few more moments.

"Did I win the talent show, Mr. Spencer?" he whispered low, his words blowing warm air over Eliot's cock, which was still in front of his face.

"Nate, I swear to God, you better get your ass on that bed right now if you don't want your prize to turn into a punishment." And that was the end of Nate's brief moment in control. Eliot pulled him up by the wrists, and sealed their mouths together as he pushed him in the direction of the bed, shedding his jacket as they moved.

The back of his knees hit the bed and he fell backwards, staring unashamed as Eliot removed his t-shirt and stood naked before him.

"While you're very striking in black, you're wearing just a bit too much of it, Nathan." And he proceeded to strip his pants while Nate shimmied out of his already-unbuttoned shirt and threw it somewhere—anywhere—across the room. "Do you have any…?" He shook his head.

"There's a few condoms in the drawer, but no lube. I haven't felt much like sex lately," he muttered as he felt his face color.

"How lately?" He didn't meet Eliot's eyes at first, but then he felt gentle fingers at his chin and he asked again. "Nathan…how long?"

"Two years," he finally relented. "Since I fell in love with you. Before that, I was trying to get you out of my head. I was so sure I _shouldn't_ want you, I tried any way I could to stop wanting you. When I realized it wasn't going away, realized how much I cared about you, it just felt wrong to try to forget about you—even if I didn't think you could care the same way."

Eliot was silent for a moment and Nate kept his eyes shut, sure he'd ruined everything with too much honesty until he felt gentle lips press against his forehead, then his temple, his nose, then (finally) his mouth. He felt the other man's tongue trace the seam of his lips and wound his arms around Eliot's neck, drawing him closer as he mapped Nate's mouth with his tongue like he was committing it to memory before breaking away for air.

"God, Nate, we could have been doing this for _years_? How did I miss it for that long? I thought a few months at the most…never imagined…" Nate surged up and reconnected their mouths, not willing to waste more time talking about time they'd already wasted. Eliot broke away again to mutter, "I don't want to hurt you without the lube, Nathan. Maybe we should…"

"Just go slow. We've got plenty of time tonight," he whispered, drawing Eliot's right hand to his lips and taking the fingers into his mouth one at a time and coating them with saliva, swirling his tongue and sucking on the tips while maintaining eye contact with Eliot the entire time. "Touch me, Eliot."

And a mere second after Eliot resealed their lips together, he felt a gentle touch at his entrance. He kept himself relaxed, trying to focus on Eliot's tongue rather than his fingers for long enough to adjust to the intrusion. It had been two years after all.

A minute or two of wiggling later, he felt the second finger breach him and he dug his fingernails into Eliot's shoulder at the slight burn. When he felt the fingers begin to scissor, he clenched his eyes shut, but they flew open when he felt the 'come hither' movement that resulted in his prostate being very firmly pressed upon.

"Ah…ah, _fuck_ , Eliot. Y-y…you…ah…oh, Jesus _fuck!_ " Eliot had released the pressure to brush across his prostate once, twice, and then pressed down firmly again.

"I was beginning to think you weren't the vocal type, Nathan. Let me hear you," Eliot whispered, continuing to make the same scissoring motion for a few seconds more before adding the third finger.

"Oh…oh, g-god, Eliot! Ungh…" He pressed fingernails deeper into Eliot's skin, pushing himself down onto the man's fingers. The burn, painful at first, was becoming far more pleasurable. Especially with the teeth scraping along his neck and the deliberate pressure Eliot maintained with his prostate. "Eliot, I need you in me now. Please…please, Eliot…" He saw and felt the shudder that moved through the man, indicating how affected he was by Nate's begging, but he didn't stop.

"I won't hurt you, Nathan. We're going to be sure you're absolutely ready before I _line my cock up with your beautiful body and push in so far you feel me long after."_ He said the last part with a low growl and another firm stroke of his index finger across Nate's prostate, humming low in his throat as Nate gave a long, broken sob that almost sounded like the hitter's name but was too distorted to really be sure. "Now, since you're still not ready for it, I want you to ride my fingers like I know you want to do to my cock. Show me what you're going to do when I'm actually inside you."

He used his hands on Eliot's shoulders to raise himself up just a bit and began complying with the man's orders, pushing himself as far down as he could before repeating the motion. Eliot kept his hand firmly in place, his only movement the crook of his finger every time Nate brought himself down, causing him to whimper and cry out with every movement.

"That's it, Nathan. I think you're almost ready for me, but just to be safe…" And this time Nate's eyes flew open and he let out a long explicative as Eliot added one more finger and spread them as wide as he could while constricted by Nate's channel.

"El…oh, god, I…it's…so…so _good_ , Eliot…you feel so good. Your fingers feel so good, Eliot, but I want your cock. I want you inside me, _please_ , Eliot, make love to me." And there it was. The clench of Eliot's other hand on Nate's bicep that said he was as close to breaking as Nate.

"You think you're ready, Nathan?" Nate nodded, pushing down and wiggling on Eliot's fingers that were still inside him. "So am I, Nathan. I want to be inside you so bad. Are you sure?" Nate gave a nod and Eliot spit into his hand, trying to slick up his condom-covered length as much as possible and positioned himself at the freshly-stretched entrance. "I love you, Nathan," he whispered and slowly sank in until he was pressed flush against Nate.

It didn't take longer than ten seconds for Nate to beg "move" in Eliot's ear. It took even less time for Eliot to comply, beginning a slow rhythm that had Nate panting in both ecstasy and frustration after only a few moments. It was a torturous pace that he knew Eliot was setting on purpose.

"Eliot…faster…ple-ease." The last word was broken into two syllables as Eliot had picked up the pace immediately. like he'd just been waiting to hear Nate beg.

He probably had.

From the prep and the slow pace, Nate was already absolutely wrecked. He knew he was only inches away from falling over the edge, but he wanted Eliot to come with him.

"Eliot, faster…come with me. Please…ah! Eliot!" The man had picked up the pace even more and Nate knew he was getting closer, so he started begging, knowing it would push Eliot even further. And because the man just made him want to beg.

"Eliot, please…please…oh, god, Eliot, I can feel you in my throat, please, keep going. I'm so close…just a little further…o-oh…Eliot, please come with me. I love you, Eliot….I love you."

"Nathan!" And the momentary return of that dark voice tinged with desperation combined with the brutal pace Eliot had set caused Nate to see stars before his vision went gray, but not before he heard and felt Eliot follow him over the edge.

LEVERAGE-LEVERAGE-LEVERAGE-LEVERAGE-LEVERAGE

It took him nearly twenty seconds the next morning to realize the arms wrapped tightly around his waist belonged to a very handsome retrieval specialist. He spent another ten uninterrupted seconds staring at said specialist before a very loud knock caused him to jump.

"Nate! Eliot! We have a new potential client—wake up!" Parker's voice was muffled through the thick door, but he still heard her.

"Dammit, Parker. We're up!" Nate jumped a bit—he hadn't realized Eliot was awake; he still looked so deeply asleep. Parker's knock had probably woken him "I've been awake since your breathing changed. Now let's go see what another day of being the good guys brings us."

Nate stretched up and gave Eliot a sweet, chaste kiss.

"What better thing could it possibly bring?" He asked with a grin, which Eliot returned with a snort.

"You're not going to start gettin' ridiculous on cons, are ya?" Nate shook his head.

"Business needs to stay business. As long as you don't use that voice," he raised an eyebrow to indicate Eliot knew _exactly_ which voice he was referencing, "we should be fine."

"And if I do?" He nuzzled Nate's neck, and Nate could feel the grin pressed against his skin.

"I won't touch you for a week," Nate muttered in response, reluctantly pulling from Eliot's embrace and rolling off the bed to prove his point. "Now up and at 'em." Eliot's pout didn't do much considering the man's face wasn't really structured for a pout; it was built for bedroom eyes, 'come hither' looks and very threatening intimidation facial expressions, but not sulky pouts.

"Fine. As long as one of us picks up some lube by the end of the job." Nate smiled.

"I think that can be arranged."

* * *

 **a/n:** That's all - please review!


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